A day in Damascus

By Chris Robbins

Be careful what you eat In Lebanon/Syria. I can’t put my finger on what caused it, but I just had one of the most miserably ill 24 hours I have spent in the entirety of my life. If it weren’t for the richness of the experiences and the cultural significance of the sites I was visiting, I would have spent the entire time comfortably in bed asleep. As it stands I had 14 hours of sleep before forcing myself awake to get some hydration and sustenance.

 

Over the past two days we went on a whirlwind road trip over the mountains of Lebanon into Damascus, Syria, one of the oldest cities in the world. The people of Damascus seemed friendly and outgoing, but more conservative than the cosmopolitan Mediterranean culture of Beirut. Pictures of Syrian President Bashir al-Assad were everywhere, a testament to the authoritarian regime which holds sway there, as well as pictures of his father Hafez al-Assad.

 

Our first visit was to the national museum of Syria, where we viewed relics of the Mesopotamian and Umayyad cultures that once inhabited the region. Cuneiform tablets and beautiful ceramic and textile work dominated the museum’s collections – unfortunately the roman and Byzantine parts of the museum were closed for renovation, but this was no matter because our time was short.

 

Our museum visit was followed by what was supposed to be a political and economic briefing on Syria from the American embassy in Damascus – a meeting that had been cancelled without notification. We ended up having a chat with two lower-level staff members at the embassy. Getting back onto American soil involved a full security check including several conversations with heavily armed guards. One thing you do get used to in this region is talking to men holding machine guns on the street. They are everywhere and if you want to do business or travel at all, checkpoints are just one of the things you have to get used to – oddly enough, most of the men with fully automatic weapons seem to be quite nice and only interested in making their presence known.

 

After our barely informative experience at the embassy we adjourned for lunch at a lovely restaurant serving local-style food in what was one an Ottoman house. The old houses here are built around huge open-air courtyards, making them very sunny and welcoming and perfect for conversion into restaurants and bars. The meal was exquisite – a full mezze including babaghanoush, hummus, labneh (a thin yogurt), pickles, crushed potatoes, and many more dishes that I could not begin to name – and the mezze was just an appetizer. The second and main courses were a type of green beans served in tomato, thyme, and cilantro broth with bits of lamb meat, and a delicious lightly fried fish and rice combination both in small local-style chafing dishes. I do not think that this was the meal that made me sick because the whole thing was just too nice and satisfying.

 

After the voluminous lunch that no one wanted to leave, our group walked through the old souk in Damascus. A souk is like a bazaar – a huge market with small shops selling everything under the sun, from nuts and seeds and toys to exotic spices, 24-carat gold and hand made instruments. We had so little time in the markets that few purchases were made before we walked through to the Umayyad Mosque. There are mosques everywhere in this region, but this one is special for its size and architecture and the inclusion of a few unique relics.

 

One of the minarets at the Umayyad mosque is called the minaret of Jesus. Our guide explained to us that Muslims dispute the death and resurrection of Christ at Golgotha, instead believing he was raised to the heavens by God to return to earth to do battle at the end of days on a white minaret – the very minaret we were laying eyes on.

 

The mosque itself consisted of a large open courtyard and an enclosed prayer hall oriented toward Mecca. Before becoming a mosque it was actually a Byzantine church shared by Christians and Muslims alike, where they would pray side-by-side. After being destroyed by earthquakes and war, the site of the mosque was purchased by Muslims. Within the alter of the old church was found a box inscribed as the remains of John the Baptist – being a holy prophet of both faiths, the Muslims constructed an elaborate shrine in which to encase his remains. I said a prayer for the soul of my grandmother at the shrine.

 

Directly adjacent to the mosque is a shrine containing the tomb of Salah al-Din, or Saladin, the great Kurdish general who took back Jerusalem from invading crusaders. After a quick walk through the old Souk, serenaded by men in fez offering us juice from urns on their backs and others selling knock-off Ray Ban sunglasses, we met our ride back to the relative modernity of Lebanon by the citadel of Damascus and a beautiful statue of Saladin.

 

My next blog will discuss the hectic nature of Arab border-crossings, a peaceful and beautiful night in the city of Zahle, Balbeck, and the beautiful (and queasy) ride through the mountains back to Beirut. Lebanon is so much more than Beirut and I am glad I was able to experience some of it on this trip.